


Empty

by Stanbillyhargrove



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Drug Use, Eating Disorders, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, Mental Breakdown, Mental Health Issues, Mental Instability, Self-Harm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-06
Updated: 2021-03-06
Packaged: 2021-03-12 09:27:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,527
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29882508
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Stanbillyhargrove/pseuds/Stanbillyhargrove
Summary: Totally self indulgent vent piece. Just getting some shit out.
Relationships: Billy Hargrove & Steve Harrington, Billy Hargrove/Steve Harrington
Comments: 1
Kudos: 20





	Empty

Steve was a chubby kid. All little soft rolls and squishy cheeks. And that was okay until he started going to school. Then he started to hear the comments.  
"Do you need that second piece?"  
"You ate that all?"  
"Remember, a moment on the lips, forever on the hips."  
"Everything you put on, you'll have to take off."  
He didn't understand. He couldn't help it if he was hungry. But he knew the comments made him feel bad about himself.  
He stopped taking seconds. 

Steve spent most of his teen years depressed. He never knew what he wanted to do with his life. Never knew who he really was. He had no parents around to show him the love he craved.  
But he had leaned out and joined all sorts of sports. Soccer, basketball, baseball. Anything to get him moving and keep the weight off.  
And people liked him better now that he was thinner. But he still heard those comments in his head. The ones that pointed out the soft layer on his tummy and the fullness of his cheeks.   
He became his popularity. His self worth dependent on what others thought of him.  
He threw parties in his big, empty house. It made it easy to skip meals when the house was full of noise.  
He'd bask in the attention, let it feed him.  
Everyone loved him.  
King Steve.  
And then in a moment, it was gone. Stolen by Billy Hargrove.   
Billy claimed the attention of everyone wherever he went. He was like a statue, all hard muscle and chiseled features. Not a single soft spot to be seen.  
His friends, his popularity, his crown. All gone in the blink of an eye.  
Left him with only the emptiness is his chest and empty liquor bottles piled in his room. 

Now he's twenty and he still doesn't know what to do with his life. Has less of an idea of who he is.   
He only knows emptiness.   
He stopped drinking, didn't like the way it made him feel anymore. Started doing drugs instead. Smoking pot once or twice a week to escape the empty. Then smoking every other night. And then smoking every night.  
Steve preferred to be high nowadays. Liked to escape the crushing emptiness and just float. He turned the pool house into a place for him to smoke. Brought in a comfy chair, a blanket and a speaker. He'd crank the music, get high and lay back in his chair to lose himself in the haze. It was easier to deal if he just stayed in the chair. He would get so high that reality stopped. Time raced and slowed all at once like he was in a dream. He would become super aware of his body. Nerves firing in his head, down his limbs to make his hand or leg twitch. Long breaths, rhythmically filling and emptying his chest. He started sleeping in the pool house. It was more comfortable, less empty.   
Steve hated when he had to be sober, his mind raced all the time. A voice that never stopped.  
"You're too big."  
"You deserve to be alone."  
"Nobody cares about you."  
Scenes popped into his head randomly during the day.  
Drive into the other lane.  
Take that blade to your arm.  
He started to take pills to numb just enough to get through work. First one, then two, then three. 

Steve's in his twenties and the only thing he knows about himself is emptiness.   
He knows that being hurt quiets the voices in his head. He saves up and starts getting tattoos when he can. Cuts up his legs, puts out cigarettes on his thighs just to feel something.  
He stares at himself in the mirror. Weighs himself obsessively. Admires the way his bones show under his skin one minute, disgusted with himself the next.   
Everyone has left. Moved away, went to school, got married or had babies and Steve still works at the Hawkins video store. Never thought he'd have a future so he doesn't know what else he would do with his life. It pays enough and he doesn't need to go back to school to do it.  
He never thought he'd have a future. Still doesn't. He doesn't see himself growing old, doing anything else. He doesn't want to die, but he thinks it might not be so bad if he did.  
He came home from work one day to see that Camaro in his driveway. The one that belonged to one Billy Hargrove.  
What the fuck? They weren't friends, Steve hasn't even seen Billy in years. But, God, he looked so good. Shirt open to show the still hard muscle underneath. He had stopped putting so much product in his hair and let soft waves grow long enough to pile into a messy bun.   
"Harrington," he smiled, pushing himself off the side of his car.   
"What are you doing here?"  
Billy feigned a hurt look, "I can't come visit my old rival while I'm in town?"   
"No," Steve answered, walking past him.  
Billy followed, all the way to Steve's pool house. Stood in the door with a stupid smirk until Steve let him in.  
"Why are you in town?" Steve huffed.  
"The brats are graduating," Billy answered, looking around Steve's space, "came to see Max."  
"Well she's not here."   
"I know. Do you sleep out here?" Billy asked, nodding his head towards the pile of blankets on Steve's chair.  
"What do you want, Billy? I have shit to do."  
He cocked an eyebrow at Steve, "really? You have plans?"  
No. He never did.  
Steve nodded.  
"Cancel them. Let's get high."  
\--  
"Man, I am starving. Got any snacks out here?"  
Steve shook his head.  
"Anything in the house?"  
He shook his head again.  
"Cause you don't eat?"   
It took a moment for Steve's brain to register that those words really had come out of Billy's mouth. He snapped his head over to look at him, "what?"  
"I know, Steve."  
Anger ripped through Steve, disappearing into the haze just as quickly as it had appeared.  
"Know what?"  
"Robin's worried about you."  
Robin. Another friend that had left Steve behind. She'd run away to California with Billy after graduation. A place where she could be herself and not have to hide.  
She'd come to visit a while ago. She took one look at Steve in the video store and started asking questions. Too many questions. Steve had called in sick to work and stayed locked in his house until she went back to California.  
Steve groaned, "that's why you're here? Tell her to mind her damn business, I'm fine."  
He wanted to lock himself in his house again and wait for Billy to leave. Stood up to leave but his head rushed and his vision went dark for a moment. Billy was up in an instant, holding onto Steve's arm to steady him.  
"Don't touch me! I'm fine!" Steve yelled, holding tight to the back of the chair.  
Billy let go and helds his hands up defensively. Steve slumped against the chair and shut his eyes tight to make his head stop swimming.  
"Did you pass out?"  
Steve straightened up, "I'm fine. You can fuck off now."  
"Easy," Billy soothed, "I'm not here to fight or force you to do anything. Just wanted to make sure you're okay."  
"Why do you care? Just fucking leave."  
So he did, he left. And Steve cut up his leg before smoking until he passed out. 

Billy was there again the next day. And the next. Just to sit next to Steve while he got completely faded. But then, on the fourth day, Billy wasn't there. Not that Steve cared, he was used to being alone. A few days of getting high didn't mean they were friends.   
He didn't care, really.  
Smoke filled the pool house as Steve laid in his chair. He had the music up so loud he couldn't think. Then all of a sudden it was being turned down. It took all of Steve's energy to turn his head to see what happened.  
"Got the party started without me, I see," Billy smirked.   
Steve couldn't help the spark in his chest or the lazy smile that pulled at his cheeks.  
Billy laughed, "holy shit. You are totally gone, aren't you?"  
Steve just snorted and melted into his blankets.   
Billy took his spot on the floor across from Steve and pulled out his cellphone, "pizza?"  
And he knew he shouldn't, he had deemed pizza forbidden a long time ago, but Steve still nodded his head.  
Billy added to the haze of the pool house while they waited for the pizza and was soon almost as high as Steve.  
Steve was halfway through his second slice when he asked, "do you have a voice in your head that just tells you how shitty you are?"   
Billy eyed him, "yeah. I think everyone does."  
"Does it ever shut up?"  
"I think it depends on how much power you give it. If you obsess over it, it gets louder."  
Steve hummed, twisting his fingers in his blanket.  
"How do you cope with the emptiness?"  
"Emptiness?"  
"Yeah," Steve mumbled, "like, just feeling empty...numb. All the time. Everyone else deals with it so much better than I do."  
"Steve, that's not something everyone feels. That's depression."  
"Oh."  
Billy watched Steve. Watched him look down at his blanket, twist it between his fingers. Took stock of how pronounced Steve's cheekbones were, how skeletal his hands looked.  
"Steve, are you okay?"  
The corner of Steve's lip lifted, "yeah, fine." 

Billy came back the next night. Brought dinner and snacks with him since he knew Steve had nothing. Watched him pick at the Chinese food for a while before pushing it aside to start lighting up.  
Billy paced his puffs that night, kept them light and spaced out. He needed Steve to get to that dreamy state again. He needed Steve to be comfortable enough to start talking again.   
Because last night, when Steve got talking. Well, fuck. That set warning bells off in Billy's head.  
Eventually, Billy noticed Steve's eyes drooping, the soft smile on his face.   
"Steve?" He murmured.  
Steve hummed, "yeah?"  
"You talked about being empty before, what did you mean?"  
He shrugged and went quiet.  
"Are you okay, Steve? I mean, you look..."  
A heavy sigh.  
"What if I just want to be sick?"   
Billy's eyebrows shot up.   
"Like, I spent so long pretending...I'm just real tired of shoving it away," Steve sniffed, realizing he had started to cry, "I don't know who I am other than that fucking mask. I want to go places, do things...I want to do drugs, I want to kiss guys, I want to be destructive and sick and fucking see who I am, you know?"   
Billy was quiet, unable to find the words to say.  
Steve forced a laugh and wiped his cheeks, trying and failing to put the mask back, "I'm just fucking around, man. I have no idea what I'm saying."  
"You're gay?"  
Steve's cheeks burned, "no, I don't know...maybe? You gunna call me a fag?"   
Billy laughed and shook his head, a few waves falling from his bun, "nah, it's cool. I'm bisexual."  
"When did you know?"  
"I always did, just knew I liked to look at boys as much as I liked to look at girls."  
Steve hummed, "I wish I knew that about myself."  
"What do you know, Steve?" Billy pressed.  
Steve eyed him. The soft, oversized sweater he wore. Everything about him was softer now. He seemed so sure about himself, Steve wished he could feel sure of himself.  
"I don't think you want to be sick, Steve. I think you want to punish yourself for something."  
Reality snapped back instantly, "what?"  
"I think you want to punish yourself and you use being sick to do so. I think you hurt yourself and smoke weed until you can't function as a way to feel something other than emptiness."  
Steve scoffed, felt oddly hurt and stupid, "what are you, a shrink?"  
"Almost, just a couple more years."  
"Oh."  
Steve filled with anger, "Robin sent you cause you're a shrink...oh my god, I'm so stupid!"  
"You're not stupid."  
"Yes, I am! I thought you were here cause you cared, not cause you were trying to get in my head!"   
"Nobody's trying to get in your head. And I do care."  
But Steve wasn't listening. His breathing was getting quicker, shallower. The voice in his head was screaming.  
Louder.  
Louder.  
"He doesn't really care. Nobody cares. They just want to be able to say they tried when you off yourself. It's for them, not for you. You don't deserve for people to care."  
Billy's warm hand was on Steve's knee, "tell me what's going on."  
The dam broke.  
"I'm a piece of shit! You don't even like me, you're just here to clear your conscience! I don't want your fucking pity!"   
"I don't pity you," he tried to soothe, "where did you get that?"  
Steve pressed his hands against his eyes, let a loud sob rip through his chest, "I don't want to be here...I don't deserve to be here...it would be better if I wasn't here..nobody would care."  
"Hey, Steve, it's okay. Calm down. Breathe with me, okay?"  
He breathed in and out steadily until Steve started to fall into rhythm. Until Steve pulled tear soaked, shakey hands away from his face and met Billy's concerned gaze.   
"Are you going to be okay? Do I need to put you on watch?"   
"Yeah, I'm fine," Steve mumbled.   
"It's okay to not be okay all the time. It's okay to need help sometimes."  
Steve went quiet, twisting his fingers.  
"Steve?"  
"I really don't want to talk about it, Billy."  
"Okay. We don't have to."  
Steve felt time slipping again as he admired the blonde.   
"What are you thinking?" Billy's fingers burned into Steve's leg.  
He shrugged and then sighed, "you're really pretty.."  
Billy's ears heated, "thanks, I try."  
Steve smiled lazily, getting lost in his haze. And then Billy was touching Steve. He had his warm legs against Steve's, was leaning in close.  
"What else do you know, Steve?"  
Steve grabbed Billy's sweater between too thin fingers. Used it to pull him down the last of the way. Soft lips parted to exhale a sigh. Billy's strong hands held the sides of Steve's face. Grounded him.  
A sweep of tongue. Billy came forward to settle on Steve's legs, straddling him. Steve groaned, pressing up against Billy's lips.   
He could have died there, under Billy's warm lips. He could have died there happily. Because for the first time in a long time, he felt more than emptiness.  
Until Billy broke the kiss.  
"Come back to California with me," he breathed against Steve's lips.   
"But.."  
"Come with me. You don't have to be alone."  
Steve tried to kiss him again but Billy pulled away, waited for Steve to nod.  
"Yeah, okay, I'll come with you."  
An easy smile tugged at Billy's lip as he captured Steve's mouth with his own.


End file.
